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Poetry is spontaneous, pure, raw emotion,
don't you dare label what I say as cliche.
This is my perspective of life in motion,
through experiences encountered day by day.
Bleeding and leaking in the form of ink,
my mind paints a beautiful picture.
Writing for the soul pushed to the brink.
Joy and sorrow, such a beautiful mixture.
Poetry fuses all emotions,
time to forget the foolish notion,
that experience stays strict to form,
Time to recreate the norm.
Life's not in Iambic Pentameter,
but it still moves with a lyrical flow.
What some read may come off as amateur,
To others inspire spiritual growth.
As Autumn leaves fall,
Spring begins to blossom,
change is almost here.
Catalyzed by thoughts shared through honest words,
emerging from the emptiness deep down,
A blank verse forged through the pain and sorrow,
Brought to the light through happiness and peace.
Redemption echoing like a shriek in an empty house---
emptying out feelings of defeat.
Poetry is water for the dehydrated soul---
warmth from the desolate cold.
Such a powerful tool should not be limited,
poetry frees me so I write freely.
Free from the burdens of stress carried for so long,
free from the bondage of guidelines to tell my story.
I Write to inspire, to spread desire like wildfire.
No different than mankind, poetry should by judged by its content,
the body and form are institutional nonsense.
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